


The Beast Divide

by Cinnamon_Midnight_Surgeon



Category: Independence Day (Movies), Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: BDSM, Blood and Injury, Dom/sub, F/M, Light Angst, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Older Man/Younger Woman, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Midnight_Surgeon/pseuds/Cinnamon_Midnight_Surgeon
Summary: Interlude to a BDSM story
Relationships: Brent Spiner/Original Character(s), Brent Spiner/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Beast Divide

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of pure fiction. Despite the usage of real names all events are pure fantasy past, present and future.

# Chapter I: Misreading of The Paradigm

The rusty oranges and reds are not what I expected, I can usually count on neutral for hotel room photography. I have sprung for the nicer room. At this Marriott, in this city all “nicer” really means is more space, and a couple couches. But the view? The view is worth it, my own corner observatory out into the city. This skyline isn’t the most unique, or the most stunning I’ve ever seen. It is a treasured and easy task finding the beauty in imperfections. There is a temperate breeze from the window on my skin, and the smell of cigarettes from whoever cleared out this morning. My favorite part of this view is how excited am I!

It has been quite some time since I have gone alone on one of my one mini vacations, and even longer since I’ve been to a convention. I’ve packed a few outfits that are comfortable but flattering. I will put in the extra effort to my hair and makeup, and make sure I am shaved and smooth in all the right places. I must let out a little laugh for that one. I can indulge myself to a fun night if it suits me. But today I have other types of adventures in mind. This year they’ve combined the annual horror convention with the general comic convention after 2020’s cancellations. My goal today is to head straight for my favorite horror host’s booth for The Last Drive-In. To mingle with my fellow drive-in mutants if I am lucky maybe one of them is cute. 

On the floor, despite my attempts at delaying my usual early arrival there still are not a lot of other patrons/fans hanging around yet. I walk around in my sensible heals, cradling my coffee to my lips. Within their own spacious corner, I spot the booth, Joe Bob Briggs is not there, but his co-host Darcy is. Darcy has always been extra friendly with fans and even before I am halfway there, she runs up to me and gives me a big hug. She smells like her own flower, a beautiful hybrid orchid that is Darcy. As I am elated in this moment, I can’t help but see out of the corner of my eye that someone is staring at us. I try not to look as my embrace with Darcy ends and she kindly invites me over to her booth.

As I offer to help her set up, I try not to let Brent Spiner notice that I have spotted him. He was the one staring when he thought no one was looking. His booth is almost adjacent to Joe Bob and Darcy’s. I hadn’t intended to visit his booth until the next day. He is the one I have fantasized about, and even though I have no intentions I still want to play it cool. But now we are in sight of each other, and I’ve been invited to hang out with the Last Drive-In crew. 

Throughout the day I move around but keep a friendly home base at the Last Drive-In booth. The whole crew is sweet and as much horror I’ve consumed in my life it’s refreshing to be around folks who know so much more than I do. Folks who are just excited about it as I am. It is what I came here for. But from time to time, I catch glances at Brent. My surging urges for him harden my nipples, the slightest brush against the fabric of my light bra makes my thighs shiver and a spark ignites from my clit. Brent as usual animates around his booth from time to time. In his public persona he has seemed to have balanced hints of arrogance with self-debasing humor. In the center of it all you can see he is just a regular man. No more interesting than any other, but somehow this excites me more. Luckily, I have my passion for the macabre to keep me focused away from him all day.

### Kowtow To Kismet: 

The clinks of the glasses clearing from the bar table are like music, I am on a high. I never thought I would be so fortunate. The Last Drive-In crew extended friendly invitations to regular fans to join them for drinks. Hours of just chill, yet passionate discussions about horror and everyday life have left me in a euphoric state.

As everyone leaves the table at different intervals, I realize I am the last one left. I want to soak in these moments, memories to cherish, and perhaps inspiration for….

A heavy glass lands in front of the chair next to mine, he is surprisingly swift. Suddenly Brent Spiner is sitting next to me. He scans my body with his piercing blue eyes that land on my face. I tense the muscles in my thighs and cross my legs slowly, trying to keep my cock hungry body at bay. The light here is dim but the lights on the wall behind him perfectly outline his aristocratic profile.

“Your day seems to have been centered around another man,” he smirks coyly. His head gestures to the seat Joe Bob was sitting at earlier.

“Oh Brent” I draw out a long pause. “People will say we’re in love.” 

His eyes move from side to side, he’s searching for the memory and then he quietly sings  
_“Don't praise my charm too much,”_ ending with a surprisingly nervous but amused chuckle. 

I figured he would catch that as a musical reference, being a theater guy. For me it was a reference from Silence of the Lambs. Something Hannibal muses to Clarice. This I am keeping to myself. I will be keeping a lot to myself even if my body betrays me. It is just more fun that way. 

“I’ve noticed you throughout the day. I was hoping you would come say hello.” 

“I was busy, knew I could most likely catch you tomorrow when your line was shorter.” Giving an air that it was not important to me. I know I am not fooling Brent, but I want him to think that I believe I am. 

“All day I was trying to place you, I wasn’t completely sure you were who I though you were. Now that I talk to you, I have no doubt”

“Oh yeah, enlighten me, who am I?” I say it almost as a challenge.

“We’ve done a couple one on one fan chats, and you’re fairly active in my Twitter sphere.”

“Guilty”

After we both have a little laugh together the tenacious veil of being strangers lifts. I start lightly circling my finger around the rim of my glass as I purse my lips. We ask each other a lot of light questions. I need to make him feel like he’s in control. Being an older man with more experience, I know I am not the first younger fangirl he’s slid next to. I know he is attracted to me by the way his eyes glance at parts of my body, and my mouth as he chatters on. Physically I am a specific type, and it’s a type you are either madly attracted to or repelled by.

It’s true, that I am not immune to his charms. He’s paused from the story he was telling me and looks down as he nervously laughs and rubs his neck. The neck I want to sink my teeth into. His hand seems to flow in slow motion, up and down, eventually landing on his chest. Did I just lick my lips?

To easy him back along into a comfortable place I reference how much he mentioned John Wayne during our video chats. The beat is back in balance and the overall sensual tenor of our interaction remains. The dance he thinks we are doing is the one of a nervous swan fawning confidence in her beauty and ability to capture the male dancer with her intellect enough to arouse him enough toward a sexual encounter. I know that no matter how interesting I could present myself to be to him, that at his age it’s nothing new. Pleasant and still arousing but not new. To him this is the dance, to me it’s a formality. I’m not smarter than him, and I’m not being false to myself. There is just a deeper hunger within me, older men that are attracted to me find it was my darker cravings that lured them in the most. The ones that are not too scared to indulge. 

I have my hope, there is a weariness to Brent. He’s enjoying our time, but I could guess part of him is asking why he is bothering with something like this again. Thinking I have a certain expectation for him to be good in bed and perhaps take a certain authority with the situation. He couldn’t be more wrong. 

I’m taken off guard as his long fingers lurk toward me, I can’t help but gasp as they graze my breast as he takes hold of my “guest” tag looped around my neck.

“Cinnamon? That is not your real name,” he bites his lower lip. Now he is trying to challenge me, but he does not know what he is in for. Yet.

I quickly grab the tag out from his fingers with a biting smile I lightly snarl 

“It is my real name smartass; my mom was a Neil Young groupie.” 

A wave of satisfaction flows over me, and Brent’s eyes light up and he seems excited by my attitude.

“Look, um, I know we don’t know each other, and I don’t do this too often anymore.” 

“Sure, you don’t,” I raise my eyebrow playfully. 

“But Cinnamon…”

I interrupt him, “call me Cinn.”

A small shade of coyness falls away from Brent and he seems *almost* nervous. 

“Cinn, I’d love to talk to you more, in a more private setting. Will you please accompany me to my room?” He sways his long arm, gesturing toward the exit.

There it is! I have fantasized about this moment for so long but never though it could ever happen. My body pained to be taken up to his room and broken by how hard he fucked me. But why have a decent orgasm when I can have a mind shattering one? I might be risking my opportunity to be with him at all but why settle for anything besides what I really want? This is going to be on my terms. He may think he is the sly, big bad wolf but soon enough he will find out, in my forest, he is little red riding hood. The curly corners of my long lips open to my own sly smile. I am showing my fangs.

“No, if you want to talk a little longer, you’re going to have to come to my room.” I’m curt with my words, but not too harsh. 

I get up and leave the table, I walk moving my hips a bit more and slowing my pace a tad. It is a gratifying feeling when I hear him quickly get up from the table to follow me.


End file.
